


Thirty Six (Seven) Months

by CelticGHardy



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, M/M, Pre series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticGHardy/pseuds/CelticGHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years that almost wasn't. Liam keeps feeling guilty about that.</p>
<p>Steve's a little annoyed at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty Six (Seven) Months

**Author's Note:**

> HC Prompt - Scars

Their actual anniversary had been a couple of weeks before, but Liam had been in New York on a hunt and Steve had gone to Tennessee on a case. The latter was still finishing up paperwork from that one, but he was going home at decent times. The drive was frustrating, but he saw Liam's car already parked outside and felt slightly better. Then, he walked in to their mutual playlist filtering in the background, a bring home meal from a restaurant nearby and Liam opening a red wine. He smiled, dropping his keys on the counter, “Hey.”

He turned around and grinned right back. “Jersey.” The cork finally popped out and he set both bottle and opener down. “I know you don't really drink, but it's special.”

“The wine's special or the day?” he joked, fitting perfectly next to him. He reached for a quick peck and was drawn into a deeper kiss that he broke after his side bumped Liam. “I'll take care of my stuff.” They reluctantly parted, and he went over to the drawer where Liam had his shield and side already to lock up his as well. Steve then went back to the table and hung his jacket on the chair, accepting what should be his only glass of wine. There wasn't really talk during their meal, the two famished and enjoying the close thing to homemade without burning something in the kitchen. The wind was polished off, and they felt slightly warm.

Liam pulled him up and into the middle of the living room. It took a minute for their hands and arms to settle comfortably. Steve's thumbs were hooked onto the edge of Liam's jeans, a parody of the way adults taught children. Liam had one hand settled on his back while the other sat in front. His fingers raised the edge of his shirt and walked over the puckered skin that was outside of the edge of his jeans. They hadn't been moving yet, but when he did that, the two became remarkably still. “Liam,” he whispered, torn between asking him to stop and not saying anything.

He grew braver and rubbed the scar of what had been the deepest wound. “Three years,” he mused, trying to subconsciously bring him closer. There was a rhythm going with his thumb, going up and down the entire length. He was reassuring himself again. The current song was an old crooner and they started swaying with it.

Steve didn't need much to figure that Liam was probably feeling guilty again. The anniversary, their dating one and the other one, the fixation on the scars, big reminders of events that he would rather drop into his past memories and not bring up unless it was necessary to something. It was a fight to get him to stop. He nudged him with his forehead before kissing him lightly. “Stop.” He repeated the act, deepening it before breaking off again. “Stop feeling guilty.”

“I'm not....”

“Don't finish that,” he said, already picking up the lie.

He sighed, “We almost didn't make this. We almost didn't make two weeks ago.” He had stopped rubbing, his hand instead settling on the scars.

“We did.”

“We almost- you almost didn't make it today,” he insisted.

“They weren't that serious,” he recited, dragging him into the bedroom. “It was a distraction.” The room had been softly lit, prepared for a slightly different moment. He let go of Liam to strip off his shirt and jeans. He hated the scars, the area afflicted had been a sensitive area that he enjoyed at one time. Now, touches weren't felt as they were, and brought reminders why they were there, sometimes. Less than there used to be, unless he had a reason to be reminded. “He wanted to get at you. Keep feeling guilty and he will.”

Liam guided the two of them on the bed, losing his own shirt and jeans in the process. A part of him might always blame himself, no matter how much he was harped and nagged to shrink it down. Steve wasn't hurt in his line of work. A convict he was chasing broke into their old place, held him hostage, sliced and stabbed him before escaping. He managed to track him down, but it was three weeks later. “He's not getting to me,” he said.

Jersey watched him for a couple of seconds. “You're trying, but it's still a lie.”

He let out a frustrated growl. “He's not....” Liam started, kissing him hard. “Getting to me.” He traveled down a bit to a spot on his collar bone and started sucking.

Steve gasped, moving under him, grasping at his body and hardening in response. “Liam.” He tried wrapping around him, but the man, settled after he developed a hickey on his skin, moved down along his chest. At the beginning of the scars, he stopped, analyzing each one as he remembered. The fugitive had called him, taunted him, and he had rushed home to find Steve in their bed, tied up and bleeding. He had been angry, at himself for not catching the guy, the fugitive for attacking him. 

The other man knew what his boyfriend was thinking about, and why he had stopped, staring at the lines. “Liam?” he nudged, wondering if he should get up and pull him beside him. Maybe tonight wouldn't be their night. He didn't have the same enthusiasm that he just expressed moments before.

It was a surprise when his tongue came out and licked the longest one.

He grabbed out, scratching his shoulders as Liam continued his assault on the lines. He was fixated on the scars, doing everything he could and it was driving him nuts. Steve wasn't thinking about the attack anymore, too focused on his efforts to drive him insane before even touching him. He panted, repeating his name over and over because while it was great to be feeling something positive there, he was getting frustrated and wanted him to move a little further south. Whines, whimpers, shouts and the noise coming out of his mouth wasn't making him change course. The scars and skin were getting the most love they had felt since he had to take care of them.

Liam only came back up after he was done, leaving Steve in a now soundless pile on the bed. “Happy Anniversary, Jersey,” he mumbled, wrapping around him and falling asleep. The only answer he got was a squeeze in return.


End file.
